The Problem of Being
by Orseis
Summary: A series of drabbles of moments and important milestones in Draco and Ginny's relationship. For Alarice Tey's Drabble Collection Challenge.
1. Contrasts

Written for Alarice Tey's Drabble Collection Challenge on HPFC forum.  
Each drabble is to be 250 or less words with a theme assigned for each chapter/drabble. Will end up being a total of 19 chapters.

_Word count_: 248  
_Theme_: Contrasts

* * *

The first time they really met, without hatred, prejudice, or a group of angry friends behind them was in his sixth year.

He'd tired of pacing in the dormitory in the dead of night. He crept his way through the still halls, the kitchens his aim. Ice cream could cure all ills, a troubled mine included. One laughing fruit portrait later and there he was.

And there _she_ was.

She looked ridiculous.

She'd frozen, tongue halfway out her mouth, lips red with cold from the melting mass of brown perched on a crispy wafer cone.

"Weasley," he'd stiffly greeted, too tired for a confrontation.

"Malfoy," she returned, more wary than hostile.

A house elf scurried forward already carrying a cone of vanilla ice cream. They knew what he had come for, what he always came for.

And then they just looked, ice cream forgotten, silence stretching between them.

He looked at her freckle dotted skin, so unlike his own unblemished white, more like a symptom of a deadly disease than anything. Whoever had first thought freckles were endearing was a loon.

She looked at his white blond hair, fine and neat despite the late hour, dismayed at her own ginger mess.

They looked each other in the eye, cold grey glued to warm honey brown.

She reached out a hand, a trail of chocolaty cold streaming down to her wrist.

"Vanilla's boring."

He bent at the waist, neck craning forward for a taste.

"You might be right."


	2. Joy

_Word Count_: 248  
_Theme_: Joy

* * *

It was a relief when he broke up with her.

Harry's startling green eyes bore into her from across the table they'd chosen outside the quaint café. That unnatural green pleaded with her, apologetic, for understanding. They begged through painfully stammered explanations.

She wanted to tell him it was alright. She wanted to tell him that she wanted this, was hoping for it. She wanted to tell him she hadn't been able to love him for years.

But he was her friend, her almost brother. He was a Weasley for all intents and purposes, and maybe that had been the problem all along.

You didn't tell friends, brothers, family that they'd been sharing a lie.

Good girlfriends didn't find joy in breakups.

So she sat there wearing patience and understanding and regret like a mask, sick to her stomach.

Her last lie.

He left with plans to catch her next Quidditch game that Sunday.

She slumped, energy draining from her limbs. Release.

The flap of wings had her sitting up in attention.

The tinkling crash of her salad bowl shattering on the cobblestones, a regal owl perched in its place, had her springing to her feet.

A roll of thick parchment threatened to upend her empty water glass. Ginny spotted the green seal, so dark she would have taken it for black if not for the bright noon sun, stamped with an ornate 'M'.

Her mouth stretched into a small smile, her first truth of the day.


	3. Ambition

_Word count_: 121  
_Theme_: Ambition

* * *

With a snifter of cognac in one hand and a ring in the other, Draco Malfoy was a man with a plan.

Where most men had problems, a Malfoy had answers.

He knew there was a solution to his mother's constant misery, her crying in his father's long abandoned study.

There was a way to fix their social exile.

There was an answer to their post-war fall from grace.

He swirled his cognac before taking a sip.

The ring was a dainty little thing, all delicate white gold lines cradling tasteful gems. The perfect balance of modesty and wealth, it was a ring fit for Malfoy fingers.

Draco Malfoy was a man with a plan; he had a proposal to make.


	4. Surprise

_Word count_: 247

_Theme_: Surprise

* * *

It was disbelief that stunned Ginny into stillness.

There, in the whirl and chaos of a Weasley Christmas, was a head of familiar blond mixed in with the ginger sea.

"W-what," she gaped like fish, cheeks flushed from the frigid air outside.

"About time, dear," the door was shut behind her as her mother appeared at her elbow, chattering away as usual. "Off with that coat now," Molly pulled Ginny's scarf off as she shrugged out of her coat.

Ginny couldn't take her eyes off that blond head, certain she was imagining it.

"Oh very well," her mother clucked fondly. With a gentle grip on her elbow Ginny was steered through the living room, tracking snow on the faded carpet.

Draco smiled at her, wearing a very ordinary jumper over a very ordinary pair of jeans holding a very ordinary glass of her mum's eggnog.

"Happy Christmas," he whispered, pulling her into a brief hug.  
"You didn't tell me," she accused.

He shrugged. "Your mother's idea. She thought it was time." The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. "I thought I'd brave the wrath of Weasley men to see the look on your face."

The two were oblivious to the few heated glares from her brothers.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, clasping them closed at the small of her back. Ginny rested her forehead against his shoulder, breathing in that smell that was so distinctively Draco.

"And was it worth it?"

"Most definitely."


	5. Death

Word count: 124  
Theme: death

* * *

Draco's hands grew clammy while the ministry official droned on, monotonous and unfeeling.

His back was stiff as he noted that other than the two of them, Andromeda Tonks was the only one who had come.

There was silence now as the official came to the end of his speech.

The smell of roses was in the air, thick and cloying.

He could hear the soft fall of soil, some dislodging as the official clumsily lowered the casket into the earth with his wand.

Ginny clutched his hand lending silent support, her freckled cheeks blotched in red, nose swollen and running.

Somewhere between his sweaty palms and her quiet tears, shed not for his mother but for him, he realized he wasn't pretending anymore.


	6. Moving

Word Count: 179  
Theme: Moving

* * *

"I can't believe we're finally doing this,"

"Finally," Draco said, levitating a tasteful red suitcase into his bedroom. "I can't count the number of times I've searched for a robe only to realize I'd left it at your place."

He smirked, "Or how often I open my underwear drawer to find your freshly laundered knickers."

Ginny flushed a deep red that clashed with her hair. "Or how many times I've had to get to work without them after your house elves nicked them."

With a final flick of her wand, the last of her suitcases settled themselves on the floor.

"Now I won't have to put up with your abysmal lack of hair care products," he opened the door to his closet, waving her in.

She raised a brow in his trademark Malfoy look. His closet, while larger than her whole apartment, was filled to the brim. "You sure there's enough room in here for mine?"

"Woman," he gave her a cool look, wand in hand, arms crossed, and leaning against the doorway. "_That_ is what magic is for."


	7. A Helping Hand

Word count: 242

Theme: A helping hand

* * *

Everything was going wrong. Draco had chosen chicken marsala because it was a fairly easy dish, yet should impress her. He'd eaten it often enough, he didn't think he could possibly botch up.

Until the spell that was supposed to fry the chicken to a pleasant golden brown had burned it to a black rock firmly stuck to the frying pan. Several batches and frying pans later, he'd managed a sort of dark chocolate color and decided that was the best it was going to get.

The spell to chop the mushrooms had gone fairly well, if you ignored the fact that no two pieces were the same shape or size, but now the damn knives wouldn't stop chopping.

He looked at the mushrooms and sauce currently simmering in the pan. He didn't remember it ever smelling quite so…boozy.

"Need a hand?"

He shot the redhead standing in the doorway a nasty glare. "No," he said stiffly, expensive black robes spotted with flour hand prints. "I do not need a hand."

Oh bollocks. He'd left the ring on the counter by the whipped cream.

The timer on the oven dinged. After the chicken frying fiasco, he'd chosen to do dessert the muggle way.

"Ooh," Ginny sniffed at the air while moving to peer inside. "Little cups of cheesecake!"

She froze. Her head turned. She'd spotted it.

"Yes."

"Pardon?"

"Yes, you pillock, I'll marry you."

He scowled, "Way to ruin a proposal, Weasley."


	8. Tomorrow

Word count: 189

Theme: Tomorrow

* * *

"Tomorrow's it," Ginny muttered to herself. Her nails were bitten down to the quick.

She'd locked herself in a little used sitting room of Malfoy Manor, pacing until there was a visible furrow in the thick rug.

It wasn't permanent.

That's what she'd told herself when her friends couldn't understand what she saw in him, when her brothers had ambushed him in Diagon Alley for 'a friendly talk' that resulted up in blood and bruises.

Even now, when most of them had grown used to it there were pockets of resistance amongst her family. Pockets that mattered so much.

Ron wouldn't so much as look at her. Bill couldn't quite let go of the past, his scars a daily reminder. George not-so-secretly blamed him for Fred. And Percy, well Percy was Percy.

And now tomorrow was it. Tomorrow she wouldn't be able to lie to herself anymore. Tomorrow, it was permanent.

Ginny Weasley didn't know what she felt. Gently, her fingers brushed the mass of white organza that was the full skirt of the dress she'd secreted away to the room with her.

She had some thinking to do.


	9. Runaway

Theme: Runaway

Word Count: 191

* * *

He stood there, new shoes pinching his feet, face like granite.

Everyone had long since left, the bottles of champagne and casks of finest oak matured mead opened and freely flowing in an effort to forget the day.

Still he stood.

The official that was to marry them had tried to leave three hours in. The new bruises slowly darkening on his wrist as the sun traveled through the sky kept him from trying again.

Still he stood.

His toes went numb as the sun hit its peak. Several hours later, the bug repellant charms failed. The sharp pain in his lower back appeared with the orange-red glow of the sunset.

As the crickets came out to sing in the Malfoy gardens there was a soft rustle of fabric.

He stood still.

From the corner of his eye he saw white. A warm hand slipped into his.

"You're late."

"I know."

He toed the official, who had fallen asleep on the ground, slumped against the altar, with the tip of a polished shoe.

Under the twin glow of a _lumos _from their wands, mosquito bites marking their skin, they were married.


	10. Secrets

Words: 250  
Theme: Secrets

* * *

"It's empty!"

"Well of course it's empty." Draco smirked at her from the doorway of his study. "You didn't think I'd leave it in such an easy place?"

"Easy? Ha!" The silver ribbon slipped free of Ginny's grasp and drifted to the floor. "I had to get Bill to help with those wards."

"If I was hiding something," he drawled confidently, crossing the space between them in several quick steps. "Even your brother wouldn't be able to get through the wards."

She sighed as he pulled the gift box from her unresisting fingers. "I really thought I'd found the real one this time."

He set it down, leaving his arms free to wrap around her waist.

"Please?" Ginny begged as she leaned into his arms. "My birthday's just a week away."

He chuckled infuriatingly, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

She glared. "I bet it's in that drawer of yours."

"Drawer?"

"The one you think I haven't snooped around in."

He stiffened.

"I knew it!" Ginny cried, triumphant. "It's there? Trust you to put it in the only place I _haven't_ gotten into yet."

Draco pulled away from her, walking around to the back of his desk, and drew his wand. "I suppose you get points for guessing where it is."

He smiled. If it was overly strained, she didn't notice.

"Turn around."

She laughed. "What for?"

"Can't have you knowing _all_ my secrets, can I?"


	11. Just Another Usual Day

Words: 52

Theme: Just another usual day

* * *

"Did you want the paper?" Draco unfolded the weekend edition of the Daily Prophet.

Ginny shook her head. "No. I've a copy upstairs."

He turned to the business section; she buttered her toast.

Their silence was only broken by the occasional crinkle of paper and clinking of silverware against fine porcelain.


	12. Regret

Words: 181

Theme: Regret

* * *

The blank parchment mocked him. Quill poised, Draco Malfoy was at a loss for words.

The ink dripped from the unmoving nib, marring the page. He scowled at the drops, the visible signs of his hesitation, his weakness. There was a bitter taste in his mouth as he vanished yet another sheet.

Throwing down his quill, he stared at the wooden grain of his desk, tracing it lightly with his thumb.

His Slytherin-trained silver tongue did him no good with her, he never knew what to say to fix things.

His jaw clenched.

"Judith!"

His secretary rushed in at his harsh cry, arms hugging a neat stack of files.

"Sir?"

He absently swept a sleeve across his desk; his fingers had left faint smudges on the highly polished surface.

"Flowers. Send a bouquet to the Manor."

The secretary nodded, brown curls bobbing with her head. "Any note this time, sir?"

"An apology. Make it a good one."

As the door to his office shut with a click, he wondered when he had stopped being able to talk to his wife.


	13. Last Night

Word Count: 143

Theme: Last Night

* * *

She needed this.

Ginny felt the goosebumps rush up her arm as a pair of lips swept down her neck.

Her fingers tangled in dark brown hair, pale skin a stark contrast with the coarse strands.  
Contrast. She was a fan of contrasts.

It didn't feel right, but it felt _real_.  
More real than her half hearted smiles across the dinner table. More _now_ than the strained silences and hurt stares.

He was nothing like what she had, and everything that she needed.

She'd found him at a bar, a grinning muggle stranger full of loud laughs and playful nudges. He had no subtlety, hitting on her with all the delicacy of a hammer.

But he practically bled emotion.

And so she ignored the voice in her head that screamed 'no,' beating at the confines of her mind, and instead followed him home.


	14. Conscience

Words: 181  
Theme: Conscience

* * *

He needed this.

It was his mantra as he spelled the lipstick off his robes and the scratches off his back.

He'd never wanted a marriage like his parents, yet somehow, it was exactly what he'd ended up with.

He'd chosen a woman as unlike his mother as possible. He'd weighed every decision against those of his father. He spent the majority of his adult life trying to be _better_ than them, better than what he was raised to be. Now, all he had to show for it was a name that had been dragged through the proverbial mud, far too many overtime hours put in at work, and a marriage that no longer worked.

And an attractive blonde atop rumpled sheets in a room that smelled distinctly of sex.

Abandoning his fumbling attempts to put on his cufflinks, he sat on the edge of the bed. Slumped over, pointedly ignoring the soft even breaths behind him, he clutched his head in his hands.

For the first time since his sixth year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy cried.


	15. After Sundown

Words: 152  
Theme: After Sundown

This drabble concerns me for several reasons. One, I don't know a thing about the actual amount of pedestrian traffic on this bridge after nightfall on a rainy day. Two, subtext! It's all about subtext. Is it obvious enough? Too obvious? Make no sense? I feel like I've hit you with a subtext brick and all the subtlety of a Gryffindor. Aghhhh.

* * *

"You forgot your umbrella."

From behind her he watched as her shoulders shook.

They stood on the Millenium Bridge undisturbed by the occasional passing Muggle. The view was beautiful despite the weather and late hour. Draco held out her closed grey umbrella, brushing her arm.

"It's too late," her quiet words barely cut through the sound of rain. "We're already soaked."

His arm slowly lowered. "We can't undo what's been done."

"No."

"But we can fix it."

"No."

"We can. A drying charm will set things to rights."

She shook her head. "We'd still be cold."

"An hour by the fire then. It just takes time."

She had no answer.

"Let's try it, Gin."

Her voice trembled. "We can't. I can't."

He waited. He could see her shiver as she hugged herself.

"Alright. We'll give it a try."

She turned to give him a tired smile. He offered his arm, pretending the glistening tracks on her face were all from the rain.


End file.
